


[caw]

by thrakaboom



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Dark Knights: Metal - Fandom
Genre: American Sign Language, Dark Knights: Metal, Fanfiction of Fanfiction, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 17:08:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13462713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thrakaboom/pseuds/thrakaboom
Summary: Peter wonders where the big one went and has a frustrating few hours.Takes place inRabera girl'sThe Birds Who Smileuniverse.





	[caw]

**Author's Note:**

> [Rabera girl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Raberba_girl/pseuds/Raberba%20girl)'s [The Birds Who Smile](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12972324/chapters/29656290) universe inspired me so much I couldn't sleep because I had the idea for this fic in my head. This was written with her permission. Please read her work because it's great (and this fic won't make much sense without reading that first). Thank you Raberba girl for the great charaterization and universe and letting me play in your sandbox! <3
> 
> This fic is written from Peter's perspective.
> 
> Name Guide:  
> [caw] = Peter  
> the big one = Jason  
> This Master = Bruce  
> [big chirp chirp] = Dick  
> [chirp chirp] = John  
> The Bad Laugh Man = The Batman Who Laughs  
> [warble] = Jack  
> [trill] = Carrie  
> the little one = damian  
> the one with yellow feathers = Duke  
> the old one = Alfred  
> the one who was gone a lot = Tim

No one else seemed to wonder where the big one went.

He had been there one day, teaching him new ways to breath and stand and fight and then he was gone. No one seemed to notice. No words were said about it- not by This Master, not by his brothers, not by any of the rest of This Master’s flock.   
  
He wonders if he was in This Master’s Bone Pit.

Just like [big _chirp-chirp_ ] was like [ _chirp chirp_ ], the big one was like him. He thinks This Master called the big one Jason. His mama had called him a name- not Peter, not [ _caw_ ]. He almost thinks it was Jason. He does not want to share his name, even if it does not belong to him (nothing belongs to him) anymore. He calls him the big one instead. It’s easier. Besides, he refuses any names This Master gives him. This Master may give him hand words and cover him in feathers, give him more food than That Master The Bad Laugh Man did but he does not trust him.   
  
It is his turn to be awake and watch. They sleep in a nest under a large desk. This Master sleeps in the bed. They too are allowed to sleep in beds, but he likes the nest with his brothers more. He is not as smart as [ _warble_ ] but he practices his hand words for something to do while he watches. He thinks about the big one. He has not reminded his brothers of him. He knows his brothers. They would not like to be reminded, just as they all tried to forget the sadness in their heart for [ _trill_ ] being dead. At least in This Master’s bone pit there are pretty things. [ _warble_ ] is a child. [ _chirp chirp_ ] is a bird. [ _trill_ ] had been something in between just like him. The big one seemed to be something in between too. He decides he has to know if the big one is in This Master’s Bone Pit too.   
  
The big one hadn’t forced him to speak, hadn’t been scared when he attacked him. He had responded to violence with violence. He was stricter, rougher, more… he makes a shivered cheep under his breath. _Disciplined._ But the big one didn’t hurt him, didn’t make him cold, didn’t starve him. He showed him how to breath, helped him remember through the violence. The big one was the only one of This Master’s flock he could understand, except maybe the little one. He liked that he understood the big one.   
  
He practices his hand words. (Hand words were better than speech, his mouth is broken but his hands are not. Hand words did not make him feel like a broken toy.)   
  
He waves his finger. _Where._   
_  
_ He struggles to remember and practices widening his arms with his fingers bent. _Big_.

Wave finger, widen arms with fingers bent. _Where big?_

He practices this aggressively, keeping his mouth firmly shut. It’s something to do while he watches This Master sleep, sure he will awaken any moment. He doesn’t care where the big one is. Where is the big one? Is he under the dirt? Why is [ _trill_ ] under the dirt? Where are the bones? Birds should not be in the ground. Half birds should not be in the ground. He does not want to be under dirt, even if This Master kills him. At least in The Bad Laugh Man’s Bone Pit the bones had air, even if they had no big rocks and pretty things.

He does not feel good.  
  
His throat hurts. His head hurts from the practice. His head hurts from saying speech words all day, forcing D’s and L’s out of his broken mouth.([ _chirp chirp_ ] gets to say things in hand words, but [ _chirp chirp_ ] was a bird. He made sure he wasn’t a bird. Why did birds get to use hand words insteach of speech?) He smacks his hands against his thighs, over and over because he is angry. He is angry because no one cares. Because everything becomes gne. Because he hates The Bad Laugh Man. Because he hates This Master. He hates them both. This Master taught [ _chirp chirp_ ] the hand word for angry. [ _chirp chirp_ ] taught him. He tries it, feeling [ _warble_ ] stir next to him. Claws going up. Angry.   
  
“[ _caw_ ] _sleep. I watch._ ” [ _warble_ ] says, quickly blinking sleep from his eyes. He knows he will look more at the picture papers than watch This Master- [ _warble_ ] already has his hands on a picture paper with a dog and cat on it.   
  
You have to be gentle and soft with dogs and cats. (Was the big one gentle with the Dog and the Cat?)

He nods. His mouth hurts. His head hurts. His neck hurts without the weight of his leash. He lays down, curling into [ _chirp chirp_ ] and covers himself with feathers and nesting while while [ _warble_ ] traces the picture paper’s dog. He hears [ _warble_ ] say “gggen-till” as he falls into his own sleep.   
  
It is morning when he wakes. His head hurts. His throat hurts. He is hot and his head is full of soft feathers. He wants to eat, to demand food but his stomach rejects the idea. His brothers chatter to each other in Robin language and fumbled hand words as the go to the food table.   
  
“ _We explore. We climb trees. I want to fly today._ [big _chirp chirp_ ] _flies.”_

_“I want to find eggs today. This Master might feed us bad meat.”_

He doesn’t join in the conversation other than to crow in agreement a few times. His head feels  sticky like when the old one fed him that smooth brown stuff on toast. Where is the big one? If [big _chirp chirp_ ] was here he could ask him but he cannot. He wanted to ask the one with yellow feathers who plays with them but he is not at food times either.   
  
“Foopeez,” he says in speech, squirming in his chair and pointing to the toast. He makes the hand word for toast too- he likes this hand sign, likes how his fingers feel when he spreads them in the shape of a flock going south and touches them to his other hand.   
  
The old one rewards him with a small bite and he shoves it in his mouth, afraid it may be taken away. This Master may feed them much more than the Bad Laugh Man, but he may also stop at any moment and demands they ask. He likes the routine, or at least didn’t like it when the strange man at the tower broke it, but he doesn’t like saying things in speech.   
  
“You have to use your words,” This Master says. “Try saying ‘I want the toast please’.”   
  
He doesn’t want to so he refuses, using his hand words to say toast over and over as fast as he could. This Master looks tired and sad when he gives him another small piece. This Master would know what happened. This Master must have sent the big one away. This Master hadn’t gotten upset and hit them when they asked where [big _chirp chirp_ ] was- but [big _chirp chirp_ ] hadn’t been dead. If This Master killed the big one he would surely get angry. He squirms out of his chair to put distance between them fo he could fly away if This Master killed the big one.   
  
“Peter,” This Master’s body says he is saying please, that he is tired and annoyed. “Come sit down and finish breakfast with your brothers.”   
  
He had practiced using his hand words and even practiced forcing his broken mouth to make the right sound. “Wwwwhrrr.” he waves his finger and widens his arms, fingers bent. “ _Where big?_ ”

This Master was pleased when he spoke. This Master liked when he spoke. But This Master was confused, he didn’t understand what he was asking. The old one and the little one and the one who was gone a lot didn’t understand when he was asking. “Big what?”  
  
His brothers watched the commotion, and [ _warble_ ] had taken the chance to take a piece of sweet fruit without anyone noticing he didn’t ask. [ _chirp chirp_ ] had his head cocked, confused. [ _chirp chirp_ ] probably did not remember the big one because he was a bird and birds not not have the best memories.   
  
He smacked his leg with an open palm in frustration but moved to say “ _I want,_ ” in hand words before This Master could reach to restrain him for smacking himself. His shirt was red and the big one had a red face he removed and put on at will so he tugged on it.   
  
“Shirt?” This Master made the hand word but sounded confused. That was not the word he wanted. He stomped his foot and smacked his leg again in frustration.   
  
“NNNNO!” he suprised himself by using speech, for how loud and forceful it came came out of his mouth. It hurt his throat.   
  
It was the one who was gone a lot who said “I think he means red.” That one moved slowly while showing him the hand word for red. “Red. The shirt is red.”   
  
He crowed under his breath and shook his head a little, sloppily repeating the hand word. “ _Red. Where Red Big?_ ” he asked in hand words.   
  
His brothers were very slowly eyeing the food on the eating table and moving it to their own plates.Neither seemed to care about what he was saying, or maybe they just didn’t know.

  
This Master’s shoulders slumped. Guilt? Annoyance? He was right, he knew it. The big one was dead. The big one was in This Master’s Bone Pit with [ _trill_ ]. He would go to This Master’s Bone Pit and find the big one’s stone and dirt and cover it in pretty no-foods. (He would bring food for [ _trill_ ] too. It didn’t feel right not to share the bounty with his sister, even if she was dead.)   
  
“ _Red big dead._ ” He said in hand words. “ _The big one who taught me is in This Master’s Bone Pit,”_ he told his brothers in their Robin language.   
  
[ _chirp chirp_ ] crowed softly and [ _warble_ ] made a breathy “ha”. They too had known that This Master not killing his own flock was too good to be true. This is what had to have happened.   
  
“ _You kill red big. You kill._ ” He accused This master, his mouth turning into a gruesome frown.   
  
This Master looked guilty in the set of his shoulders. Or This Master looked sad. He could not tell for sure. This Master knew who he was talking about. “Jason isn’t dead. He went home. He doesn’t live with us.” This Master became lonely looking. This Master missed the big one- this Jason? Maybe he was telling the truth about the big one being gone to his home, about him not being dead.  
  
“ _Home_ ,” he repeated in hand words.   
  
He would believe it when he saw it.

**Author's Note:**

> My research on the signs in this story were done at http://lifeprint.com/ and https://www.youtube.com/user/SmartHandsCA. Please correct me if I got any of them wrong!


End file.
